of dying, and living

This week my uncle died. His death has affected me far more than I would have expected, because I see echoes of my life in his. It is tragic to have to say that someone wasted their life, but in his case, it is the harsh truth. After a point in his life we could only see sadness, dependence in many forms, and wasted potential.

So where are the echoes? I see in myself a fear of fulfilling my potential, of living. I often find myself stuck in negative and self-destructive patterns of thinking, of feeling angry and blaming others. Of always finding excuses.

I don’t want to be him. I don’t want to look back at my life and see all the paths not taken.

Maybe then his life was not wasted, if it is pushing me to act, and to change.

May he rest in peace.